


How Embarrassing

by EtoileGarden



Category: Queen's Thief - Fandom, The Queen's Thief, Thick as Thieves - Fandom
Genre: Beginnings, Dubcon Mention, Friendship, Miscommunication, Noncon mention, Road Trip, Slavery, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: Some things are a little too embarrassing to include in the official record.It's far too easy to simply believe that Costis is truly just like his other masters.





	How Embarrassing

**Author's Note:**

> This has zero smut, but I do say the word cock a few times.

We had only been pretending to be caravan guards for just over a week, well, I had been pretending at least, and not very well. I had been beginning to enjoy it a little more, and by that I mean I wasn’t detesting every step. The food was still dreadful, the walking was still hard, the weight of my chain round my neck still caused anxiety to knot in my stomach whenever anyone came too close to me, or my shirt slipped even a little.

I don’t think I could quite say I liked Costis, or maybe it was that I still didn’t trust him. I understood now that he was no fool, that I had been entirely mistaken in my initial impression of him. I couldn’t figure out if that meant he was far more cunning than I had anticipated, and his every word was a lie, or if it just meant that I was an idiot. I was leaning more towards the latter, his kindness, for he was very kind, or perhaps just gracious, was very sincere. I don’t think I knew very many people who had the privilege of being able to be kind while understanding how this world worked.  
Even so, I was still much more inclined to be distrustful towards his intentions- it made no sense to me why he would not take advantage of my servitude. 

We had only just gotten off guard duty, and I had gone to relieve myself quickly before we went to our bed rolls, leaving Costis by the fire with a group of men sharing a bottle of wine. They were not guards, but they occasionally joined in with the guards when they sparred in the evenings, and had waved at the two of us to join them. When I returned, Costis had seemed overly easy going, and a little too friendly for someone who was not my friend. He had taken me by the elbow, and said, not quietly- “Share my bedroll with me tonight, Metit, the air is very chilly.” 

At first I had been an interesting mixture of flattered and annoyed. Flattered because I hadn’t thought he liked me very much, and annoyed because he’d asked too loudly for me to turn him down without causing gossip. Anyway, it wasn’t very cold tonight. Within seconds however, I had completely changed my mind about how to feel, and felt very sick instead.  
I know what it means for a slave to be ordered to share a bedroll.  
Costis had instructed me early on, and quite consistently, not to call him master, had seemed very uncomfortable with that title, but we would both be lying to say there was no truth in it. He oversaw my every action, and I had no say in where we were going or what we were doing. I might be wearing trousers, and hiding my chain, but I was still a slave, and I was sure that he must still see me as a slave.  
I had agreed, not quite as promptly as was proper, but he didn’t seem to notice. If I had hesitated in responding to Nahuseresh in such a situation he would have been very angry about my reluctance. Not that my response really mattered, it was more of a formality.  
I followed Costis to our blankets, then stood and watched as he rearranged them so they made up one bed. We were sharing the tent with several other guards, but our shifts were different and none of them were currently in bed. 

I stood in the entryway to the tent, watching the fire Costis had been standing at, where the men we had left still sat with their bottle. I couldn’t make out their faces at this distance, and especially not in the dark, but I could see that every so often one of them would glance our way, and I wondered if they had guessed at the meaning behind Costis’ words. Even though to them I was not a slave, the implicated order was still clear.  
I thought, quite bitterly, that Costis must be a lightweight - he couldn’t have had more than a few swallows of that cheap bottle being passed around, but already he was assuming much.  
I startled when he touched my ankle, and turned quickly to see him already under the blankets, one arm stretched out to catch my attention.  
“Come to bed,” he instructed, “we only have a few more hours until we are up again.”  
I wondered if it was the alcohol that had prompted this, or if it had been carefully planned, or if he had merely been waiting for a time that our tent would be empty and vaguely private.  
He didn’t give anymore orders of how he wanted me, so I simply climbed under the blanket next to him, then lay on my back watching him and waiting. 

He looked somewhat disconcerted by my stare. Unhelpfully, he rolled onto his side, back facing me. I wondered if he was so easily swayed that my pointed stare was enough to push him off course, why had he been sent on such an arduous mission? Maybe I was too black and white about my opinions, it was of course very possible that he was simply easily embarrassed about things like this, and that it did not affect his work ethic at all.  
I still waited. I was not going to touch him until prompted, but neither could I just roll over myself and go to sleep.  
I suppose it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He wasn’t unattractive, nor was he cruel. Even if it wasn’t exactly an event I wanted to take part in it wouldn’t be dreadful. 

Finally he spoke, and it was in such a low voice that there was no way I could have mistaken its meaning. He simply said - “Kamet,”  
He was giving me no instructions of what he wanted, or how, so I decided I would just have to wing it. He was still facing away from me, so I took what prompting I could from that, and rolled onto my side as well so my chest pressed against his back, and reached around him. He was a lot bigger than Nahuseresh had been, it was more of a stretch, but I could still reach enough to cup him over his trousers.  
He had inhaled sharply when I had pressed against his back, and exhaled very loudly when I cupped him, his cock twitching against my hand. I thought that if he reacted so vocally to being touched like this he had probably not been with anyone for quite a while, and that at least tonight would be quick work.  
“Kamet-” he says again, his voice a little sharp, and I understand that, so I lift my hand again and then start to slide it under the waistband of his trousers. He grabs my wrist, not ungently, and holds it firmly.  
“What are you doing?” he asks me, and I have no idea how to respond.  
Is this not how they did it in Attolia? I didn’t think there could be that much difference between an Attolian hand job and a Mede one. He sounds so utterly confused though, that I am beginning to think that all of my assumptions in the last fifteen or so minutes have been exceedingly ridiculous.  
“I-” I have no idea what I am doing, “Is this not what you wanted?” I ask, and I can feel his entire body stiffen against me. His entire body, that is, except for his cock.  
When he speaks again he sounds agonised, and I feel entirely dreadful.  
“This is not at all what I wanted,” he says, and releases my wrist so I can pull my arm away. I roll again onto my back, clutching my hand to my chest as if it had been burned, my cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.  
He does not roll over. He keeps his voice very low, so that it does not carry out of the tent.  
“The men at the fire,” he begins, “they are a little drunk, and not very cautious. They did not recognise exactly who I was when I joined them.” I don’t care about the men at the fire. “They were talking about you,” Costis continues, “they think you are hiding something, and they are stupid men, so they think it is something very valuable. They were talking about waiting until you were asleep and then searching you.” I cannot believe what I am hearing. Or maybe I cannot believe what I had believed earlier. “I wanted to put them off it. I thought that if we shared a bedroll they would think it too risky.” 

“Oh.” I say. 

We lie in very, very uncomfortable silence for a few moments, and then Costis speaks again. 

“I would never-” he starts, “-you don’t-” he’s silent for a few more breaths, “please believe me,” he says, “that I would never ask you to do anything like that unless I thought we both wanted it.” 

I don’t think there is a good way to respond to something like this, so I cross my arms and mumble, “As you say.” 

“Kamet,” he says again, and I think he is saying my name far too many times. Even if he is being quiet, someone could still overhear. “You are not a slave, and you are certainly not my slave. You owe me nothing. If you are uncomfortable sleeping so close to me, I will happily separate our blankets again.”

I think he must be the one who is uncomfortable. He was the one who just got groped by an idiot after all. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m mostly sorry for completely misunderstanding him, for being so inappropriate, but also for believing him to be capable of acting like my master. I was constantly misjudging him, and I could only thank the gods he didn’t seem as angry about this as he had about me thinking him a fool.  
He rolls over to face me, and I close my eyes, bid my face to stop burning, though I doubt he will be able to tell in the dim shadows.  
“No,” he says, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised how my words could have been taken. I did not mean to mislead you.”  
I almost wish he had just let me give him the handjob so we wouldn’t have had to have this awkward conversation.  
“Kamet,” he says again, and I shake my head, eyes still closed.  
“Metit.” I remind him, then, “We both made mistakes. I assumed far too much. I accept your apology, please accept mine.”  
“Of course,” he says, “Metit. You don’t have to apologise.”  
“Let me apologise,” I snap.  
He stares at me for a long moment, and then nods, “You are forgiven,” he says, “would you like to shift our beds apart, or should we just sleep now?”  
It is a very serious question, but I am too tired and too humiliated to think about it much at all.  
“Let’s just sleep,” I reply, “if those men do try and search me it is better that I am closer.”  
He nods, stares at me for a moment longer, and then rolls back over and away from me.  
I lie there, my humiliation pooling in my stomach until I feel I could vomit from it. I have done many stupid things in my life - usually because I read the scene wrong, just as I had tonight - but this particular one was exceedingly embarrassing. I had not only completely misunderstood what was going on, but had also insulted Costis by implying that he would use his status for means such as this, and then further, had shown my hand. I’m sure most people in Nahuseresh’s household suspected that my role stretched a little further than secretary to Nahuseresh, but that was all gossip, no one could say for sure that I did anything more than manage papers. Now Costis, of all people, knew, and I hated that. I wanted him to believe me to be more than a slave, even if I could not believe it, even if I could not act it, but now he knew how very easily I slipped into subservience, and exactly what kind of subservience I slipped into.  
I did not sleep very well that night. 

Thankfully this is not something that is easily brought up in everyday conversation, so Costis didn’t mention it the next morning, or anytime that day at all, not even the next night, though he did make our beds up together again, mumbling under his breath that he wanted to make sure it was obvious that I would not be an easy target. I think it would have been very easy for him to make a snide comment as we got into bed, something like - ‘keep your hands to yourself tonight’, but he kept his mouth blessedly shut. He only wished me goodnight, and then left me to my own thoughts. My own thoughts of course, explored all the different ways he could have reminded me of how foolish I had been. 

Nobody rifles through my pockets during the night, nobody discovers that the secret I am hiding is around my neck. After the third or so night of us sleeping shoulder to shoulder, I think enough people knew that I was no easy target. Not because of any merit of my own of course, but because Costis was big enough that there was no point in taking him on for anything so small as a suspicion. 

This is not something that gets brought up at all, in fact, until much, much later. I like to think that Costis is my friend now. I certainly want him to be, trust him enough to be. I flatter myself in thinking that he thinks of me as a friend now as well, especially after I have kicked him so had in the groin. It is almost unthinkable to me that after everything we have gone through together, he is still so kind to me. I had just told him a story of Immakuk and Ennikar, he took to them with much more enthusiasm than I had expected, and I am very gratified to get to tell him the stories for the first time. We’re close enough now that I am comfortable in our friendship to tell him of Marin, or of how I lost Marin. He is uncomfortably sympathetic.  
It’s later on that evening, when we are wrapped in our separate blankets, and I am on the cusp of sleep, not thinking at all of Marin, or of Nahuseresh, or even of the Namreen. He breaks into my blank mind. 

“Kamet,” he says, and I grunt in reply. I don’t want to be awake.  
“Kamet,” he says again, “do you think Nahuseresh was more mad at the thought of Marin being with someone else, or of you being with someone else?”  
It takes me far too long to realise what he means, to connect all the dots, but when I do I am thoroughly awake.  
“Marin,” I say roughly, “absolutely Marin.”  
“You think?” he asks, and I scoff at him.  
“Whatever sort of… relationship you think I had with my master, I can tell you very easily that he preferred Marin, or even, any of his girls, to me.” 

Costis is quiet for long enough that I think he is going to drop the subject and let me sleep, but, I have no such luck.  
“And yet you still-” he pauses like he’s thought better of what he was going to say, and then seems to change his mind again. “If he prefered his girls then why-”  
I interrupt him before he can finish his question. We might be in the middle of nowhere, with only caggi to overhear us, but I don’t like hearing this out loud.  
“It was convenient,” I say sharply, “I was always there. The girls were not. Especially in Attolia.”  
“Oh,” he says, I pray that he now shuts up, of course, he doesn’t. “It wasn’t something that happened often then?”  
I could just lie to him. It’s not like he would ever find out the truth.  
“No. It -” please gods would they make him take his stupid questions back, “- It happened often enough,” I said, trying to sound final.  
Costis rolls over to face me.  
Apparently the gods aren’t listening to me. Or if they are, they find this all too amusing.  
“I’m sorry,” he says. I am done with his apologies for things that aren’t his fault. 

“Why?” I ask him, “Is it worse for you knowing that not only was I a slave, I was a sex slave? Does that erase all my other qualities? Maybe I was expensive and valued for my secretarial skills, but sometimes my master wanted something else, so therefore that is all I am?”  
I know I am being unfair.  
“That’s not what I meant,” Costis protests, and if he sounds hurt I tell myself that he is not as hurt as I am.  
“No?” I ask, pulling my blanket tightly around my shoulders, “What did you mean then?”

“I only wanted-” he sighs heavily, I can hear him shifting on the hard ground, and then his hand touches my shoulder. “I am sorry for all of it. No one deserves the life of a slave. And you - you are a good man, I hate knowing you have been so badly treated. I hate knowing that I have participated in treating you so badly.”  
His voice is so sincere that it brings a lump to my throat. I am glad that I am facing away from him.  
“Well,” I say with as much lightness as I can muster, “as you keep reminding me, I am a free man now, so you have nothing to be so sad about. “  
His hand is still gripping my shoulder tightly.  
I free my right hand from the blankets and then cover his hand with mine.  
“Truly,” I say, “let us think of the future, not the past.”  
This is how I learn that all I need to do to stop Costis from talking about something I don’t want to talk about is to tell him I don’t want to talk about it. That or hold his hand.  
“So,” he says gently, “I look forward to your future.”


End file.
